cial
treatment. They left Vienna at the end of May, followed to the station
by a great crowd, who loaded their compartment with flowers and lingered
on the platform waving and cheering, some of them in tears, while the
train pulled away. Leschetizky himself was among them, and Wilbrandt,
the author of the Master of Palmyra, and many artists and other
notables, "most of whom," writes Mrs. Clemens, "we shall probably never
see again in this world."

Their Vienna sojourn had been one of the most brilliant periods of their
life, as well as one of the saddest. The memory of Susy had been never
absent, and the failing health of Jean was a gathering cloud.

They stopped a day or two at Prague, where they were invited by the
Prince of Thurn and Taxis to visit his castle. It gave them a glimpse
of the country life of the Bohemian nobility which was most interesting.
The Prince's children were entirely familiar with Tom Sawyer and
Huckleberry Finn, which they had read both in English and in the
translation.

They journeyed to London by way of Cologne, arriving by the end of May.
Poultney Bigelow was there, and had recently been treated with great
benefit by osteopathy (then known as the Swedish movements), as
practised by Heinrick Kellgren at Sanna, Sweden. Clemens was all
interest concerning Kellgren's method and eager to try it for his
daughter's malady. He believed she could be benefited, and they made
preparation to spend some months at least in Sanna. They remained
several weeks in London, where they were welcomed with hospitality
extraordinary. They had hardly arrived when they were invited by Lord
Salisbury to Hatfield House, and by James Bryce to Portland Place, and
by Canon Wilberforce to Dean's Yard. A rather amusing incident happened
at one of the luncheon-parties. Canon Wilberforce was there and left
rather early. When Clemens was ready to go there was just one hat
remaining. It was not his, and he suspected, by the initials on the
inside, that it belonged to Canon Wilberforce. However, it fitted him
exactly and he wore it away. That evening he wrote:

PRINCE OF WALES HOTEL, DE VERE GARDENS,
July,3, 1899.

DEAR CANON WILBERFORCE,--It is 8 P.M. During the past four hours I have
not been able to take anything that did not belong to me; during all
that time I have not been able to stretch a fact beyond the frontiers
of truth try as I might, & meantime, not only my m